


Play Stupid Games...

by Argent_Vulpine



Series: The Long Game [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A little bit of angst, B-Support (Fire Emblem), C-Support (Fire Emblem), Claude von Riegan (mentioned) - Freeform, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Golden Deer Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Golden Deer Sylvain Jose Gautier, Guilt, I'm Bad At Summaries, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Support conversations are mentioned, Sylvain has Feelings, part one SPOILERS, what is a beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argent_Vulpine/pseuds/Argent_Vulpine
Summary: Sylvain being Sylvain and trying to figure out what exactly he thinks of the professor. What even are these Feelings? How dare.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Series: The Long Game [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000740
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Play Stupid Games...

He’d gone to bed alone for once, ignoring Felix’s dour stare and slipping into his room, decidedly _not_ slamming his door behind him. Sylvain could admit to himself – and only to himself, in the privacy of his own room – that he’d messed up with the professor. And he’d messed up badly.

This was worse than the first time the professor had caught him mid-break-up with a town girl. At least then he’d only made a fool of himself by blatantly flirting with her, meaningless as it may have been. She was more than nice to look at, he had to admit, and it was worth a shot even if he knew it would go nowhere.

This, though… this was just… bad.

His mask had slipped. It was difficult to keep it up, but it was even harder to do around the professor. Something about her made him want to relax, and in that moment of honesty… he’d panicked.

Sylvain strongly doubted that she took it as a joke, even if he’d claimed it was. They both knew he’d been serious.

Groaning, he put his head in his hands and flopped on the bed.

He didn’t bother to get up or uncover his face when he heard the door crack open; there was only one person awake at this hour who would even bother.

“You’re an idiot, I hope you know that. Pull yourself together.”

Sylvain peeked through his fingers in time to see a dark head of hair turning away, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Shit. Had Felix overheard his conversation with the professor? That was doubly bad.

Sure, he was jealous of the professor. Growing up as a mercenary, protected by the Blade Breaker, living life away from the church and nobility – all while having one of the most powerful Crests in existence! – and not having to worry about the sheer politics involved with it… she was lucky. And he was jealous of that luck.

Jealous because the Crest system had made his brother despise him. It had ended with him having to kill his own kin. It meant growing up being told how he had to choose wisely in order to pass on the Crest to a worthy heir.

And… a part of him really did mean it when he’d said he would make her pay. Collect on that debt. But another part…

Another part was calling him worse names than Felix ever did, because despite himself, he _liked_ the professor. He admired her, even. Sylvain flopped onto his side, staring at the wall and really thinking about what he’d said, what he’d done… why he _cared_.

The professor had a solid tactical mind. Her refusal to use the Sword of the Creator unless absolutely necessarily was beyond admirable; she refused to rely on her Crest or the (dubious) perks that came with it. Her swordsmanship was excellent – he’d heard Felix attest to that on numerous occasions – and even her magic was solid, though he doubted she’d ever be – or want to be – as proficient as, say, Lysithea or Annette or even Dorothea.

She liked tea, played board games, was an overall amazing instructor, even so far as going out of her way to learning other styles of combat in order to better teach her own students. She didn’t mind going out of her way to returning lost items to her students; even Sylvain had found himself the recipient of such treatment, though he had to wonder, sometimes, how she’d known when an item was his.

And lately, he’d gotten better at reading her micro-expressions. Maybe it was because of being friends with Felix; you just had to learn to read the subtext, but with her, it wasn’t so much what she didn’t say, it was her eyes, the subtlest quirk of her lips when she smiled, the slightest tightening that was her frown.

Sylvain had come to value her smiles, rare as they might be, and today all he’d done was earn not just that frown, but a disapproving stare, and the narrowing of her eyes that he knew meant trouble.

He grabbed his pillow and pressed it against his face, releasing another long groan of annoyance with himself.

And the worst part was… he knew he wasn’t going to be able to suck it up and apologize. He’d just have to continue the charade he’d started.

No one could possibly have predicted the events that happened next.

In the wake of Jeralt’s death, the professor’s quest for revenge against Monica – or Kronya or whatever her name really was – and the girl’s sacrifice by Solon, sealing the professor in darkness only for her to cut through the sky and step out a changed woman (literally), there was no time to really apologize even if he hadn’t been so bent on sucking it up and playing the philandering asshole he’d been for so long already.

Then had come the disaster in the mausoleum, Edelgard’s betrayal, and… war.

He found himself at the professor’s door two days before the Imperial troops were set to arrive, a board game tucked under one arm and a pouch of tea in hand. Sylvain drew a breath, wondering to himself why he was even here, and knocked.

The door opened a crack, then widened when she saw who it was. “Hello Sylvain. Is something wrong?”

“Ah… no, Professor, not… not exactly. Are you free? I brought tea,” he said, lifting the pouch, “and a game.”

Her vibrant green eyes (he was still getting used to those) flickered down to see the game tucked under his arm. “Sure,” she finally said, opening the door fully and stepping aside to let him in. Her room was less than immaculate, which was a bit of a shock. Papers were strewn about the desk, map figures knocked over or placed haphazardly.

It was in complete disarray, and he knew he was right to come, despite his own misgivings. Was she _nervous?_ It was almost too unreal to believe.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing at the little table in the corner. At her nod, he set the game on it and moved the entire thing to the middle of the room, somewhere between her bed and her desk, giving her the option of where to sit.

She’d already pulled out her tea set, setting out cups and saucers on the table once he’d put it into position. The professor even pulled out a small box of shortbreads she must have had tucked away, adding that to the growing collection of items on the little table.

Sylvain poured water from a pitcher into a kettle, heating it with a touch of magic before pouring hot water and tea into the teapot to steep.

The professor had chosen… the desk chair, to his surprise, which left him the only other seat available in the room: her bed. He swallowed a lump in his throat and settled down onto it, angling himself so that his long legs wouldn’t disturb the table between them.

The door, of course, remained open. No doubt a requirement by Seteth, but Sylvain was glad for it for once.

They set up the game in silence while the tea steeped, the professor arranging the board just so. Nervous fidgeting, he guessed, watching her tweak the board into position. He let the silence drag on for a while longer, carefully setting the pieces up.

Perhaps King’s Table wasn’t the best choice of games, all things considered, but he liked games of strategy, and the professor seemed to enjoy them as well. And this way, she could still strategize and hopefully relax a little all the same.

 _Why do you care?_ came the voice inside his head. He didn’t have an answer to that.

“King or attackers?” he said instead, gesturing to the board once it was set up.

“Attackers,” was the prompt reply. Sylvain was surprised, actually; she usually took up the more defensive position of the king. But he nodded and settled in for the game, pouring the tea for the both of them when it was ready.

They stuck to lighter topics, for the most part. Places they’d visited or wanted to, sweets they enjoyed, jokes they’d overheard. The professor’s sense of humor had surprised him, once, having been convinced she didn’t have one at all. The fact that it was somewhere between dry and bawdy had frankly been the most startling to him, but once he considered her mercenary background, it made a lot more sense.

She was relaying a tale from her days with her father’s mercenary band when she suddenly stopped, shooting him a puzzled look, her brows furrowing rather adorably. “Sylvain, are you okay?”

He blinked, then flushed when he realized he’d been staring. “Ah, yeah, sorry… you were saying about the horse?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if gauging him, before she launched back into the tale, pausing only briefly to move one of her pieces on the board.

He glanced down as she finished her story, too shocked to register its end, though he knew it was amusing. He would have laughed, even, had he not seen that her finger rested on top of the king piece. When she knew she had his attention, she very carefully knocked it over.

He’d been surrounded and hadn’t even noticed.

“Sylvain, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I need your head in the game. I… I’m counting on you.”

He dragged his eyes back up to hers, clearly shocked at the admission. “Why?” She tilted her head, questioning. “Why _me_? I’ve done nothing but antagonize you all this time. Why would you count on me for… anything?”

The professor began to straighten the board, putting the pieces back into their starting positions, while she considered his question. After what seemed like an agonizing amount of time – though he knew it was only a few seconds – she spoke. “You try to hide it from the others behind this façade of yours, playing the fool, but every time we have tea, you play board games with me. Not easy games, either; you always bring something that requires serious thought, strategy, _technique_. You’ve even beaten me on numerous occasions.”

She toyed with her teacup, her thumb stroking along the handle absently as she thought of what to say next. “You – despite all your efforts to show otherwise – are one of the best tactical minds I have available. I think the only person who beats you, really, is Claude, and that’s just from how willing he is to play dirty.” A pause and then she sighed. “Okay, maybe Yuri as well, but for the same reasons. The point is, Sylvain, I _need_ you. I need you to have your head on right for what’s to come, because I’m counting on you.”

The professor stood then, pacing around the little space in the back of her room. “Yuri has his orders; he’s preparing escape routes in Abyss for us, just in case we need them.” That drew a frown from Sylvain; it was the first he’d heard of that kind of contingency which meant…

“And Claude’s schemes can only get us so far.” She was worried. More worried than he’d thought.

“Professor…” She stopped her pacing and turned to face him. “I get it. I really do.” He gestured at the seat across from him. “Your tea is getting cold. We’ve got time for another round, don’t you think? Attack again. I think I know where I went wrong.”

This time, he paid more careful attention, knowing that this was, in a sense, another way for her to impart a lesson on him. She’d chosen to be the attacker for a reason, and he’d realized that too late.

She was counting on him to keep their people safe when Edelgard’s army attacked.

The thought sank into his gut, leaving him with a feeling of unease for the battle to come.

“Sylvain, find Claude! He knows the way to Yuri. Get everyone to safety!” It was the last thing the professor had said to him before she’d run off, sleeves flapping in the wind, sword glinting in the light as she cut down foe after foe, headed toward something that shouldn’t have been possible.

He did as she’d asked, herding his classmates, his _friends_ , after Claude, lingering just long enough to see her fall. His heart clenched, a pang of grief he hadn’t expected, but he tamped it down. She was counting on him, after all, and he would not let her down.


End file.
